The deck of the ship heaved disconsolately to and fro like a lazy beast, not the storm wracked intensity of the high seas but the easy rolling of a coastal current. The easy motion had long since become second nature to Kyanna and she filled her lungs with the salt sprayed air. She was no sailor herself but after the initial seasickness had worn off and she'd found her legs she could see the appeal. She knew that drive that some men felt to return again and again to the sea, drawn to it like a filing towards a lode stone. The rolling of the deck felt like action, movement, progress. The crew working together brought that closeness that only men whose lives rely on each other feel. It wasn't always friendship, in fact some of those on the ship
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She was a tall, striking woman, her slender frame roped with the lean muscle of constant action. Her shapely legs were encased to mid thigh in a pair of long leather boots with light armor patches riveted over shin and cuisses. She wore a thick sword belt hung low over the swell of her hips that held a slim, deadly rapier and parrying dagger. Her leather jerkin was lightly sewn with scales of armor under a bandolier full of throwing knives. Although it was cut to protect and not to entice the supple leather clung tight for mobility and highlighted her feminine curves rather than hid them. A wavy shock of thick auburn hair cascaded down her back, held at the nape of her thin neck in a utilitarian tie. Her face was slender and clever, with high cheekbones underscoring piercing, searching green eyes.
Her men watched her as she crossed the deck as well, although their eyes were searching for orders. Nearly two dozen swordsmen, scouts, and riders, the Red Hawks had garnered a well earned reputation for speed and efficiency. They weren't front line infantry and would have been wasted if thrown into the thick of a battle with the rest of the massed troops. They focused on small unit tactics, striking behind enemy lines and controlling battle tempo with surgical strikes. Although some followed for the love of coin, or fame, or battle,
She was a tall, striking woman, her slender frame roped with the lean muscle of constant action. Her shapely legs were encased to mid thigh in a pair of long leather boots with light armor patches riveted over shin and cuisses. She wore a thick sword belt hung low over the swell of her hips that held a slim, deadly rapier and parrying dagger. Her leather jerkin was lightly sewn with scales of armor under a bandolier full of throwing knives. Although it was cut to protect and not to entice the supple leather clung tight for mobility and highlighted her feminine curves rather than hid them. A wavy shock of thick auburn hair cascaded down her back, held at the nape of her thin neck in a utilitarian tie. Her face was slender and clever, with high cheekbones underscoring piercing, searching green eyes.
Her men watched her as she crossed the deck as well, although their eyes were searching for orders. Nearly two dozen swordsmen, scouts, and riders, the Red Hawks had garnered a well earned reputation for speed and efficiency. They weren't front line infantry and would have been wasted if thrown into the thick of a battle with the rest of the massed troops. They focused on small unit tactics, striking behind enemy lines and controlling battle tempo with surgical strikes. Although some followed for the love of coin, or fame, or battle,